


The Empress' Friend

by 13atoms (2Atoms)



Category: The Great (TV 2020)
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, I love writing Catherine she's the best, Kinda, They're both cute and orlo loves meeting well travelled people, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:41:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27642269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2Atoms/pseuds/13atoms
Summary: Prompt: count orlo fic where reader is a friend of catherine's who comes to visit and orlo falls for her
Relationships: Count Orlo / Reader
Kudos: 15





	The Empress' Friend

With a gentle smile at Catherine you reclined onto the chaise in her room, trying to hide how impressed you were by the luxury of her quarters. She was stood by the window, allowing her maidservant to fiddle with her hair, after it had been tousled in her delight at your surprise arrival earlier that morning.

“You husband seems like a _charmer_.” You commented glibly, making Catherine roll her eyes.

You could still feel the man’s eyes on you, how he had leered at you whilst the Empress introduced you. Your heart had broken for her a little in that moment – the great love she’d dreamt of unfulfilled by the oaf she’d married.

“I couldn’t possibly speak ill of my great Emperor,” she replied sarcastically, her maidservant concealing a laugh.

With a nod from Catherine, the strangely insolent maid poured you glasses of wine, and left.

When you were children the two of you had indulged in love poetry and romance books, weaving long tales to one another about meeting your princes, giggling over love notes and boys in the village.

Now the pair of you were adults, and you’d long since given up on that kind of romance. Catherine understood power, and influence, and how to keep herself safe, in a way which made her unnervingly wise beyond her years.

But that little blonde girl was still in there somewhere, sucking on a ringlet of her hair as she described how one day she was going to be swept off her feet.

Maybe she didn’t know it yet, but when you met Leo, you wondered if that dream might be a little more alive than she even knew.

It was barely afternoon, but it seemed the drinking began early around here. Most of the palace hardly knew if they’d live to see the evening meal, you supposed. Already you’d heard whisperings of the things Peter did, seen unspeakable stains being scrubbed out of furnishings, blood spattered on the exquisitely gold-detailed walls. Catherine had walked you through the corridors quickly, navigating the palace with ease, whilst also seeming uneasy spending too much time around it.

Now, having been introduced briefly to a rather crestfallen Leo (who seemed devastated you would be occupying the Empress’ afternoon in preference to him and his _talents_ ), you hoped you might be spared introductions to the rest of the palace.

The gossip was just beginning, as Catherine told you of her miserable relations with the Emperor, the men she suspected of adultery, the little things she missed from home. Already you were laughing, happier, realising how much Catherine’s absence had pulled the colour from your life in some significant way. Her trust and conversation alone made your journey here worth it, and you swore to yourself you would visit as often as you could.

“There is an advisor, too. He is a curious man. Clever, though. In his way. You must tell _no one,_ but we are planning…”

A sudden knock on the door made Catherine close her mouth quickly, taking a gulp of wine as a guard cracked the door open, and called through it.

“Count Orlo, Empress.”

“Ah! This is him!” She exclaimed loudly, “yes, invite him in.”

More quickly, to you, she uttered, “Say nothing.”

You nodded abruptly, making note of the flush on Catherine’s face, the excitement in her tone. You wondered what your friend was planning. God, she had barely unpacked, and already there was something afoot. It made you proud, that this place had not broken her spirit as you had both feared when the carriage arrived to take her from Germany.

You paid it very little interest as the door swung open, picking instead at the fruit laid out on the side-table, allowing the Empress to do whatever business she had to attend to unobserved.

She switched language with an ease that made you proud of her, and you tried to tune out the Russian as she began to speak.

“Orlo. I do apologise, I have company, so this shall have to be quick.”

“Of course, Empress!”

The returning voice of the new man was so much more timid than you had anticipated, you found yourself looking up in shock, brow furrowed at this so-called advisor who seemed to possess none of the brutish bravado you had seen in Peter and his friends.

_He will not last long_ , you thought, trying not to let amusement show on your face.

“This is Count Orlo,” Catherine addressed you, and you finally let your eyes drift to properly meet the man himself. “He is a fine advisor, one of the longest standing at present, and a dear friend.”

You schooled your thoughts as you took the man in, suddenly rather more impressed with his achievements. Looking past his timid manner, you saw the finery he wore, the spectacles perched on his nose, the stack of books beneath his arm.

One hand reached out to you, the fingers ink stained, and you smiled politely as you allowed him to take your fingers in his. He bowed to your outstretched hand, pressing his lips to your knuckles, and you fought not to blush at the delicacy and reverence with which he treated you.

“I have heard much about you,” he stammered, “it is a pleasure to finally meet someone Catherine holds in such high regard.”

“Likewise, I am sure,” you answered diplomatically, seeing the raise of his eyebrow.

Suddenly, his attention turned elsewhere, like a hypnosis broken.

“Oh! Empress!”

Catherine did not bother with the same polite introductions as you, simply nodding and gesturing for Orlo to say his piece.

“This is the book I spoke of, I have marked… some pages.”

As he spoke he opened the book to indicate the notes, giving you the stealthy look of a man with something to hide. You could sense Catherine’s irritation from across the room as he subtly tried to hint to her, only to accidentally turn directly to a handwritten pamphlet housed between the pages.

He gasped as the papers fell and fluttered to the ground, scrambling to collect them, this smuggling of information apparently completely sabotaged by Orlo’s nervousness. He glanced at you nervously, shielding the pages from your eyes. You hid an amused smile politely behind your hand.

“These as well, Empress,” he stammered, holding out the pages, “I must have left them in by accident, perhaps you have a bin…”

Catherine, in her cruelty, was simply letting Orlo flounder like a fish out of water. You sighed, putting the poor man out of his misery, seeing the sweat on his brow and the shake of his hands as he found a way to conceal whatever he was trying to give Catherine.

“Fear not, Count Orlo. I have no interest in whatever you are sharing. In fact, I would probably support it.”

“You would,” Catherine interjected haughtily, making you laugh.

Orlo gave a nervous, relieved laugh, wiping his brow as Catherine finally took the book and papers from him. Desperate to break the tension, you peered at the spine of the well-worn leather-bound tome the Count was giving Orlo.

“I certainly support the reading of that book. It is wonderful,” you commented airily, “A beautiful story set in an even lovelier surrounding.”

Orlo’s eyes went wide, and you smiled at the sudden way his attention was fixed to you.

“You have read it?”

When you nodded, he beamed, taking off his glasses and playing with them nervously as he regarded you.

“The imagery is extraordinary, it is certainly beautiful, such an exciting, foreign world...” he gushed.

You smiled, certain you were about to make his day. You could see Catherine looking down at the book cover, a strangely knowing look on her face.

“I have been there! Where it is set, I mean. Verona. A beautiful part of the world. Strange, I suppose, when contrasted to here. But I found myself thoroughly in love with their buildings, their way of life… the food is to die for.”

The Counts face lit up, and he gave a Catherine a nervous look as he moved closer to you, demanding to know everything about your travels in Italy. You obliged, happy to speak as long as his face lit up in such delight at your words.

“Where else have you been? I read a most wonderful book about...”

It was as though the stars aligned, for you had been to every place Orlo suggested. The conversation grew more and more excited, Orlo hanging onto your every word, and Catherine joining in tales where she knew them. Places, people, books, it seemed you had something to say to one another about every tangent which had arisen.

Time flew by as you spoke, Orlo sitting eventually, too taken in by your tales of travels and culture to leave. When he saw the clock, hours had passed. He gasped in shock, standing to leave with flustered apologies. Whatever he was late for seemed mightily important.

You rose to see him to the door, it felt only polite, and despite his rush you saw him turn to face you, surprised to see you following his escape. With a quick look at your face, he took a deep breath, his face screwed up as if in deep thought.

“I am sorry,” he began, exhaling heavily, “but I fear I must ask. Would you like to have dinner with me? If you are free at all, during the week, perhaps?”

From his nervous glances towards Catherine, you wondered if he expected her anger. It didn’t come, she instead turned to her desk, a half-smile on her face which you would have teasingly slapped her arm for, were it not for your polite company.

“I am only visiting,” you told him apologetically, finding yourself entranced by the hopefulness in his sad eyes nonetheless. “I’m afraid I will be leaving soon. A week from now, at most.”

Orlo seemed disappointed, his gaze turning to the floor in embarrassment.

“Otherwise, I would love the pleasure of your company,” you assured him, surprised to find yourself telling the truth.

You really would love to spend more time with this curious man.

“Just one dinner, then? A few hours of your time is all I ask. A shortage of hours in your company would be preferable to missing the opportunity in the first place. You seem such a beautiful, fascinating woman.”

The Count stared at the floor, his rank and reputation so incongruous with the shy self-consciousness he possessed. It did nothing but endear you to him. To his lack of ego, to his gentlemanly politeness, and the wisp of jet-black hair which had found its way free of his coiffed curls.

“Dinner tonight, perhaps?” You offered, in a sudden burst of excited confidence.

Catherine could miss you, you would stay an extra night to make it up to her. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her the smile on her cheeks.

Her smile was nothing on Orlo’s, his teeth showing as he beamed, before quickly trying to hide his sheer excitement, bouncing on his heels.

“Perhaps I can collect you from Catherine’s rooms, around seven?”

You were trembling as you nodded, and Orlo handed over the book he had come to deliver, ducking his head with embarrassment as she pointedly thanked him for visiting.

You sat once again as the door slammed shut, almost collapsing from adrenaline. Catherine elegantly rose from her fake paperwork, before bouncing across the room to throw herself onto the seat beside you, shaking you with the kind of excitement you had possessed only as children.

“I told him that you would be perfect for him,” Catherine laughed, and you wanted to hush her to keep her voice down. “Your surprise visit was perfectly timed.”

“This was planned?”

“Perhaps by fate!”

“Catherine…” you began, a sudden fear of betrayal blossoming inside you.

She shook her head viciously.

“I simply told him of your virtues, and saw that the pair of you would make a wonderful match. But this was before I even knew of your visit. There is a greater power at play here, I am sure of it.”

“I have had just one conversation with him,” you protested, “we may not even get along.”

You felt embarrassment grow on your cheeks as you remembered how he had kissed your hand, the way your heart had swollen with each nervous look at his shoes.

The overjoyed smile on his face as you agreed to dinner with him would make your face hot for hours to come, you were certain.

“And yet you are enamoured,” Catherine declared, and you wished you could tell her otherwise. “And I am once again right.”


End file.
